


Piece of Heaven

by Hopeamarsu



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Allusions to abuse, Children, F/M, Food, Gen, Homelessness, Kidfic, Orphanage, Teenager, going hungry, scavenging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeamarsu/pseuds/Hopeamarsu
Summary: Robbie is hungry and he thinks he has the perfect spot to get something to eat.
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Kudos: 11





	Piece of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> brief mentions of hunger, homelessness, orphanages, and allusions to child abuse. Nothing is described, but it's there so if these triggers you, please be aware. This is a kid-centric fic, but with a twist. 
> 
> This is one of those pieces where nothing really happens, but still, a lot goes on. It's also something I’d wanted to try out, so it might not be what you expect. But I do hope you like it anyway :)

He is really hungry and he can’t really remember the last time he had a full belly. But he is used to it now, the gnawing feeling in his stomach as he keeps walking.

Because that is what he does most days, walk. Round and round, in and out of the inner city. Sometimes he ventures out of the city limits to the woods, he knows he can get a calm and undisturbed sleep, but it can get cold there. Especially during the winter months. But sometimes the cold is much better than the place he is forced to call home. 

Tonight he finds himself in a nice neighborhood, the streets paved and nice houses lining them from both sides. He thinks that these places, where there are lights on porches and lovely smells come from kitchens, must be part of heaven. Something he is doubtful he will ever experience. But as he walks down the road, peeking at the houses, he can pretend for a while. 

The lights and the smells do not help his hunger though, only one thing will, so he picks a house that’s a little to the side, one that doesn’t have the rubbish bins out front. His best guess is that they are on the side of the house, next to the kitchen door which is all the better for him. He won’t be visible. And if he can keep the noise to a minimum, the owners of the house will never know he has been there. 

He’s halfway through the first bin, not finding much apart from some rice that looks like it has burned, when the door next to the bins open and you step out, a plastic bag in hand. He looks at you wide-eyed, suddenly very afraid of what is going to happen next. 

“O-oh!” You visibly startle as you witness a young man, more like a boy, crouching down next to your bins, hand still inside the trash bag. He looks guilty as he keeps his shoulders hunched as to not scare you. He is dirty and thin, reminding you of those young deers that are still learning how to walk with their legs. His eyes are wide as they take you in, the same way you must look as you take in the visual. 

“I’m sorry Miss.” He whispers and pulls his hand free from the bin; holding a half-eaten apple. He takes a step backward and stumbles on the lids, causing a huge noise. He winces and something in his behavior, like he is expecting you to shout and punish him for this indiscretion, causes a wave of sympathy inside. You place the bag on the step and regard him with a soft look. He must be so hungry, the poor thing, to go around digging through people’s trash. 

“Are you alright? What’s your name?” Your voice is gentle, low as not to scare him any further. You don’t step closer, nor do you close the door but angle your body in a way that is non-threatening. Your hands lie flat on your body, no sudden movements are to be made. This feels delicate, this balance you have now, ready to shatter within seconds. 

“Robbie, Miss.” He looks down on the ground, ashamed of being caught red-handed. He specifically picked this house as he thought he could get away with it. How wrong he was. He wants to hide, but he is more afraid of you alerting people to his existence. 

“Well then Robbie. Would you like to come inside, join us for dinner?” The question rattles him, this was the last thing he expected. A stick to his knees, maybe the police (at least then he’d get to sleep inside even if he’d pay dearly for getting caught later) but not this. He chances a look at you and your warm smile as you gesture inside.

“Miss…”

“If there’s one thing I recognize Robbie, it’s when someone is hungry. Come inside please, then you can be on your way. My husband and I, we’d love it if you’d join us.”

He can’t help but think there is a trick here somewhere, he really should be more careful of who he places trust with, but the allure of the wonderful smell that is wafting from inside is too much to resist as he finds himself nodding. Even if it’s only for a few moments, this surprise act of kindness is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time. And a full belly, it’s hard to deny himself the promise of hot food. 

Your smile lights up even more if that is possible as you usher him inside. “Flip, honey? Can you set one more seat at the table? We are having some company tonight.” You quip to someone inside and Robbie can hear that someone give a grunt from what he suspects to be the dining room.

“Don’t mind him, Flip’s really a teddy bear once you get to know him. He might not look like it but he really is.” You tell him as you lead him to the bathroom to get washed up. Robbie sees pictures line up the walls, smiling faces and warm embraces. It looks lovely and now there is a different type of ache in his stomach, nothing to do with hunger.

Once he is done, hands warm and slightly cleaner after hot water and soft soap, you lead him to the dining room where Robbie is greeted by a hulking man, a true tower of pure muscle. His dark hair falls down to his shoulders and he looks at him with suspicion in his amber eyes. And then Robbie spots the shoulder holster the older man is wearing on top of his red flannel shirt, something metallic glinting from the armpit. That’s when Robbie starts to feel nervous. Was this all a ploy after all?

“Baby girl, who is this?” It might look natural, the way Flip steps next to you and slips his arm around your waist as he pulls you flush to him but there is a keen awareness in his eyes as he takes the stranger in his home in. Robbie gulps, he is suddenly feeling very apprehensive of being in this house, with two strangers, at least one of them armed. He is being measured for something and he’d rather not find out what for. 

“Flip.” There is a warning note on your voice as you place your hand on his chest, right over his heart. Your body molds itself against the hard planes and he looks down at your open face. Robbie watches as he gently brushes one piece of hair behind your ear. It looks like a loving gesture to him, something that is born out of mutual appreciation and adoration. “This is Robbie. I found him by our bins and he looked hungry. And you know I always make more than enough food here, can’t let it go to waste.”

Flip hums as he takes stock of what he sees in front of him and Robbie can feel his ears heat. He knows what the older man sees: dirty and matted hair, clothes that have been mended once too many times, and pants that are a bit too short on his lanky body. He’s got dirt under his nails and no matter how hard he scrubbed before, they will not get clean and he’s fairly certain one can see one of his toes from the hole in his shoe.

It’s awkward for a moment, the silence in the room but then you break it by gesturing at the table. “Let's sit.” You look at your husband, almost amused by the protective behavior. “Flip, play nice.” You leave his embrace, something the older man is clearly not too happy about but resigns himself to pull out the chair for you. 

Robbie waits for you to sit first and then takes his seat opposite you as Flip sits down next to you, one hand slipping under the table. The muscles flex as he seems to be squeezing your thigh, but that’s not of importance as Robbie looks at the table. His mouth waters as he takes in the feast in front of his hungry eyes: a steaming roast, potatoes, and carrots in separate bowls looking so inviting. There is also a small salad and a jug that contains a dressing or gravy, or so he suspects. Robbie doesn’t think he’s ever been presented with a feast like this, not without strings attached at least. He wonders what the string is this time as he waits for instructions. 

“Go on.” You tell him gently, nodding at the table.

He can feel the stare of the older man as he picks up the bowl of potatoes and places a few on his plate. He does the same with the carrots and is relieved to notice that you follow his lead, taking the potatoes. He doesn’t dare to take too much, not to be a hoarder. 

“How old are you Robbie?” You ask once the sides are on the plates and Flip picks up the carving knife to start on the roast. The young man looks at you, keeping the corner of his eye on the knife that moves across the meat. He knows you notice this but to his relief, you opt not to comment on it. 

“Sixteen, Miss.”

“Mrs.” It’s the first word Flip has spoken to Ronnie and his deep voice makes Robbie want to straighten his spine a bit further. There is something commanding in his tone, this is a man who is used to leading people and having the entire room’s attention. Robbie wonders if his father had been like that once before everything happened. 

“Sorry, sir. Mrs…”

“Zimmerman. Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman.” He grunts again as he places a thick piece of juicy roast on Robbie's plate. It looks amazing and the smell is divine, but Robbie doesn’t dare to touch it yet as the older man, Mr. Zimmerman, looks like he wants to stab him with the carving knife. His gruff manner earns him a light slap on his forearm from you.

“Don’t be like that. I am Y/N and this is Philip or Flip as he likes to be called. None of that Mr and Mrs nonsense.”

Robbie watches as Flip’s eyes melt when they look at you, the love he has for his wife pouring out of them. His lips curve to a small smile as he holds out his hand to squeeze your shoulder. It’s tender and loving and suddenly Robbie feels like he is truly intruding on an intimate moment.

From your shoulder, his hand raises to your cheek, and Flip strokes it gently, his smile now growing. It speaks of familiarity, of love, and admiration. He then takes your hand and kisses the back of it before releasing it and turns to look at Robbie again. The previous gruffness is still there in his amber eyes, but it’s a bit more relaxed now. Now there’s some curiosity sprinkled in as well. 

“Where are you from Robbie?” You ask as you break the silence once more. The roast is now carved and Flip sits back in his chair, his hand finding its way to yours. He gives a gentle squeeze once more, his eyes warming up once again as he gazes at you. It’s almost funny, Robbie thinks, how clearly he can read the older man as he looks at you, but as soon as his eyes turn away from his wife, the walls are up in a second. 

“The orphanage, Miss Y/N.”

“Which one?”

“St. Agnes. I’ve been there for ten years now and in two years…” He trails off, he doesn’t really know what happens in two years when he turns eighteen. He suspects he will find himself out in the streets, without even that flimsy safety net. It really is a shitty place, but it’s all Robbie has. And he fears the day they kick him out, not for himself and his survival, but for those who he was sworn to protect from the nun's ire. 

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say anymore. You’ve heard rumors of St Agnes of course and none of them are good. You turn to look at your husband and you can see that he knows what you are thinking also.

“Is that why she found you digging through our trash?” Flip questions, but his voice has a changed tune also. It’s no longer gruff but something else that Robbie cannot quite put his finger into. He nods, he really doesn’t want to speak ill of the only place that took him in when his parents died. And he knows what happens if the nuns find out he’s been talking. The nuns always find out. 

He sees you share a look with Flip again. It almost is like the couple in front of him are talking without words, all that is needed to carry out an entire conversation are looks shared between the two of you. What surprises Robbie is that after a minute or two of this, Flip moves in his chair and kisses you gently on the forehead. Your eyes close as he stays in position for a moment, offering comfort. On what, Robbie can only guess.

He turns to the younger man and pins him down with the intensity in his eyes. “What Y/N has neglected to tell you before is that I am a police officer.” He tells Robbie. The young man tenses immediately, what will come next cannot be anything good. “What I’d like you to do is stay the night and come to the station with me tomorrow. I have a colleague who’d like to talk to you about St. Agnes.”

He finds himself surprised once more. He nods quickly, accepting, glad that somehow Flip and you seem to know what happens inside St. Agnes’ walls. Maybe this might be a blessing in disguise, him being found digging through the trash at this particular house with this couple, so much in love with one another and keen to help a nobody like him.

“Thank you,” Robbie whispers, holding back tears as he turns his eyes to the roast on his plate. It might be cooled now but it still looks and smells wonderful and he can’t wait to dig in. You smile at him and nod at his plate, “Eat before it gets cold Robbie, we’ll talk more later.” 

He does as he is told and suddenly that piece of heaven he thought about earlier is his.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi over at Tumblr :)


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